NIGHTMARUS INTERRUPTUS

Nightmare

Paws are folded, eyelids droop
while scenes of slumber though seas of dream espy.
Entrenched, the succinct visions turn,
paraded for a liquid eye:
from cisterns rise a bellowed fog on callous skies.
The Judas tree beside the yew bends where the willows cry.
Here, caravans with solemn pace arrive athwart an aged gate.
All crows flap wild, the air is chill,
black hoods, blown leaves in misty swirls
attend a box, long, narrow, then. . .
awake, he cannot see the end.

war

TowerReview.com : looking out for the little guy.

Two Poems

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REST STOP

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Drawn as though to a lure on a line

the driver parks between rock and far space,

the chill air a whistle along one seam,

its tune a waver, mystical,

like the cry he has caught,

hands loosening the wheel

dropping away

as the wind dies

where he stares

across the barren lot.

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His old van shudders one last time

and is still. Listening to the silence

he frames his complaint:

Utah to the west, Florida to the east,

and here his nadir.

Is there no escape?

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He will stay, he decides,

until the answer comes.

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Meanwhile, on the lone table,

fruit flies on a melon rind.

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RIDDLE

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Quarreling, the first gull flies.

The surging surf has swallowed down the beach.

Without its claw a sand crab dies,

Grappling out of reach.

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For no tide the sea rocks wait.

The summer moon has dwindled from the sun.

A severing fog the damp earth makes,

Trackless, hushed, undone.

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(from Poem magazine)